Adaptation
by russianwinter013
Summary: Having a former Decepticon on Team Prime that no one knows nothing about is risky. His methods are a bit frightening. His sanity is questionable, as well as where his loyalty lies. The former 'Con is feral, and a hazardous addition to Team Prime. How will they cope?
1. Introductions

**Okay, here is my Transformers: Prime story!**

**Title: Adaptation**

**Rating: T, may be M for torture scenes later on**

**Universe: Prime, post-Predacons Rising**

**Warnings: Torture coming up soon/possibly/in the future. Warnings will be in the _beginning of the chapter only_, so if you fail to read the author notes, the blame is on you.**

**Apologies for my attitude. Enjoy the story!**

* * *

It was quiet on the _Nemesis..._

...until there was an explosion.

"What in the Allspark's name was _that?"_ Bumblebee shouted, trying to regain his balance as the ship rocked precariously.

"I can give you a guess," Arcee said.

Bumblebee was silent until realization hit him.

_"Wheeljack!"_

The Wrecker entered with Bulkhead steadying him. His white paint was charred, and smoke rose from the Energon conduits on his back.

"What were you doing?" Bumblebee demanded.

"Relax, 'Bee. We were testing the strength of new explosives for construction," Bulkhead explained.

"On a ship miles in the air? What were you _thinking?"_

"It's Wheeljack, 'Bee," Smokescreen said as he cleaned his blaster. "Thinking isn't a given for the insane Wreckers."

Wheeljack laughed hoarsely at this. Bulkhead glanced worriedly at him.

"I need to get him to med-bay," the massive Wreckers stated. "Jackie nearly got his face blown off."

"That's what he gets," Arcee muttered, "For trying to blow us out of the sky."

"Aren't inventors supposed to do that?" Smokescreen said. Arcee turned to glare at him, and he raised his servos, his doorwings twitching. "Just sayin'."

* * *

"Ratchet!"

The medic's voice echoed from his small Energon storage room. "What have you come to bother me about _now?"_ He appeared, a scowl on his faceplate and stacks of Energon cubes in his servos.

"Lab accident," Bulkhead explained when Ratchet noticed Wheeljack. "Grenade testing."

"Of all the stupid-" The medic stopped, collecting his temper. "You did this on an airborne ship _why?"_ He slammed the crates down on his desk with a forceful, near ground-shaking _thud._

"It was on the deck," Wheeljack shot back, pushing Bulkhead off of him and wincing as his damaged servo moved. "Only thing that went kablooey was the grenade."

"And nearly you with it," Ratchet snapped.

"I'm in one piece, aren't I?" The Wrecker jerked away as the medic applied disinfectant.

"Barely," Ratchet snapped.

"Aren't you supposed to have an assistant?" Bulkhead asked suddenly.

Ratchet scowled. "Yes, but his whereabouts are unknown."

"He couldn't have left without us knowing," Wheeljack said. "He's a land-mode, which means he would have used the Ground Bridge and we would have known."

"Yes, yes, I know." The medic approached his computer and brought up recently admitted coordinates. "The most recent coordinates are the set that was used to pick up Ultra Magnus from the Sea of Rust."

"He probably deleted them," Bulkhead said. "He still doesn't trust us."

"You mean he doesn't trust _Smokescreen_," Wheeljack countered as the medic patched the gash on his side. "The kid _did_ stick him in a wall."

"Ultra Magnus confined him to the ship," Ratchet reminded. "It is not our problem if he desires to go against his orders."

"But it is our problem if he finds Megatron." Arcee appeared in the doorway.

"He said he'd never inflict oppression again," Wheeljack said, "And something tells me that KO isn't the type to just up and leave."

"We never thought he'd have the guts to fight, but he reached through Screamer's chest and knocked him unconscious with the Immobilizer."

"Which was a weapon we needed," Arcee countered.

"As well as one we probably wouldn't have used unless someone attacks," Wheeljack snapped, "But that is unlikely because we have this gigantic airship." He shifted slightly, attempting to adjust to the Energon drip Ratchet had stuck him to as a means to restore the amount in the explosion.

"That is possible," Ratchet responded, taking a step away from the Wrecker as he ran another scan. "You should be fine unless you try another insubordinate ploy of some sort. The rest of you can leave." He watched as Bulkhead helped Wheeljack out of the room.

"Do you really think Megatron was telling the truth?" It was Arcee, who had stayed despite the medic's order.

"I cannot give my view on that. We have trusted him before and the results were both triumphant and catastrophic."

"What would Knock Out be doing down there, other than the theory that he's looking to join forces with Megatron? It's not like he had anything to do."

"Decepticons are naturally misleading, Arcee. He could have an actual reason for being down there without a given order." He turned away, heading back to the storage room and ending their conversation.

Arcee took the dismissal as it was and left. "Let's just hope it's a good one."

* * *

The ex-Con sped down the uneven metal road, swerving to avoid the jagged spikes that protruded from its surface. The War had ravaged the path; faint flashbacks of the bombings and the injuries they caused plagued his mind.

_Stop. Do not let inconsequential matters haunt you. They are beneath you._

Swerving suddenly, he jerked off the path, transforming. Picking his way through the broken field, his burning gaze swept over the clearing. Where was it?

Out of the corner of his optic, he saw the glint of light on metal. He enhanced his scanners, and picked up the faint, albeit dampened, spark signal of an Autobot. Venting in irritation, he checked to make sure his own signature was dampened. Seeing it was, he came to the conclusion that the Autobot had been shadowing him for quite some time, though certainly not from the time he had left the ship; the only explanation as to why he had not sensed it earlier being that he had been lost in his thoughts. The others must have noticed his absence and sent one to investigate.

Joy.

* * *

She trailed the ex-Con, keeping out of his sensor range. What was he doing out here, in this war ravaged field? There was nothing here.

"Bulkhead." She contacted the Wrecker. "I found him."

"_I'm not surprised_," the Autobot responded. "_What is he doing, finding a nice place to buff his finish_?"

"I'm not so sure. Right now, he's just driving, and...hold on." She watched as the mech suddenly tore off of the path with a violent, screeching swerve and into the field, transforming.

"_Arcee, what is it? Are you in trouble_?"

"No, he just moved off the path. It looks like he's looking for something. I'll call you back, Bulk. I need to be prepared for anything."

"_Let me know if you need backup. That 'Con can be a handful_."

She suppressed a laugh. "Bulk, this is _Knock Out _we're talking about here. He isn't much of a threat."

"_You can never be too careful. He has some tricks up his sleeves_."

"His tricks never impressed me." She hung up.

A shadow passed over her. "I'm sorry that my tricks don't impress you." A deep voice drawled above her, full of annoyance and ridicule. "Perhaps if I gave you a _shock?"_

Electricity surged through her body, and the last thing she saw was the leering face of Knock Out.

* * *

**Aaaannnddd...that's that! Hope you liked! **

**Also, I know Wheeljack was a bit out of character, and I apologize for that. I have reasons for making him so...things you will find out about later.**

**Review or PM with suggestions/comments/concerns!**

**Bye!**


	2. Confusion, Anger, and Insanity

**Ok, Chapter Two! Sorry for the wait! Enjoy!**

* * *

"Would anyone mind telling me why numerous members of my team are dispatched across the Sea of Rust?" Ultra Magnus stormed in, a severe look on his faceplate and his servos crossed.

"It _is_ only Arcee and Bulkhead, sir," Wheeljack informed, heading towards his commander and scowling as his IV caught on a nearby monitor. "Also, KO's gone missin'."

"How so?" Magnus glared down at him.

Wheeljack was unperturbed, seemingly oblivious to his stare as his attention was fixed on untangling the wires of his medical attachment. "Don't know. He just vanished."

"We don't know where he went, sir, he deleted the coordinates before we were able to retrieve them." Smokescreen stepped forward, his playfulness put on hold in front of his leader.

"And the good doctor could not retrieve them?" If possible, the Magnus' glare became even colder.

"It is what I am working on now." Said doctor appeared in the doorway. "I have their location narrowed down to one of the old battlefields used before Cybertron darkened, one that is near the center of the Sea of Rust."

"What would he be doing down there?" Magnus demanded.

"Well, there is the theory that he's trying to join Megatron," Smokescreen stated, shrugging. His doorwings flared as he turned away slightly, receiving a message on his internal comm-link.

"I'm starting to think that concept is kind of farfetched," Bumblebee stated, approaching and standing a respectful distance from his leader. "It wouldn't make sense to join Megatron after what happened. We don't know what Unicron's leaving did to his mind, and it's not like Knock Out was some big, bad 'Con we should be scared of."

"Knock Out didn't exactly favor Megatron, either." Smokescreen faced them, his doorwings twitching as they picked up the Vehicons entering for their monitor shift. "He just went to pleasing him and stayed out of the line of fire. How else would his finish have survived?"

"We are going off the topic," Magnus rumbled. "Doctor, can you narrow down our three members' locations anymore?"

Ratchet nodded, taking out his built-in scanner. "Bulkhead's signal is not dampened, but Knock Out has dampened his own, as well as Arcee, as she is trailing him." He headed over to the nearest unoccupied monitor and the others followed and watched as he transmitted the data to the computer. Before he could say anything else, however, the sign representing Arcee turned red and flashed repeatedly.

"That's…not good, is it, Doc?" Wheeljack questioned, his optic ridges creased in worry.

"No, it is not." Ratchet pressed a button on the control panel. "Arcee, what is going on? Arcee, come in!"

Nothing but static answered.

Then,

"_I'm sorry, Arcee doesn't appear to be responding at the moment_." A deep, unmistakable voice came over the line.

"Knock Out, you are ordered to release Arcee and return to base immediately," Ultra Magnus growled, authority and power laced throughout his voice.

"_Mmm, I don't think so_," the ex-Con responded.

"It was not a request."

"_Nothing ever is for you, now, is it, my dear Ultra Magnus_?" One could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

"Knock Out, what do you gain from doing this? Kidnapping will get you nowhere. What is it that you want? A new buffer? More medical tools?" Ratchet spoke up.

The former Decepticon scoffed. "_Is that all you think I care about? My finish? How dimwitted are you_?"

"You certainly _seem_ to care about only that," Smokescreen muttered.

"_I would watch your tone, Smokescreen, unless you want your precious femme returned to you in pieces_."

"You wouldn't dare," Wheeljack hissed.

Knock Out laughed. "_Try me. I am not in the best of moods today._"

Ultra Magnus stepped forward. "Your mood is not our concern. You have kidnapped one of our members, therefore you will return her and be punished."

_"Kidnapped?"_ The medic sounded thoroughly offended. "_I've kidnapped no one_."

"Don't play that card, 'Con," Wheeljack snarled. "You kidnapped her, might as well admit it."

"_If I recall correctly, **I** was the one to leave the ship, and **you** were the ones who sent her after me._"

"None of this would be happening if you trusted us enough to ask for permission to leave," Smokescreen stated.

_"Trust?!"_ Knock Out snarled, showing rare anger. "_Don't you dare speak to me about trust!"_

"I'm pretty sure it's painful for a _Decepticon_ to speak about," Wheeljack retorted.

"_I am **not** a Decepticon_!" The mech's voice was cold and filled with fury. "_Not anymore._"

"Knock Out," Ultra Magnus rumbled, "Where are you?"

"_I've already sent an encrypted file. Though I doubt you'd be smart enough to crack it_." The ex-Con cleared his vents. "_Ah, well. I have matters to attend to_."

Wheeljack snarled. "Knock Out, don't you dare."

"_Sorry. I have better things to do. It has been **so** long since I've been allowed to dissect a femme_." With that, the mech hung up.

"Sir." Smokescreen approached Ultra Magnus silently, an almost hesitant falter in his steps. "I just received a comm."

"Explain its significance to our current situation," the Magnus rumbled, his attention fixed on the screen before him.

"It's from Knock Out," the Praxian murmured, his doorwings dipping into a respective position. "The encrypted file."

"Why'd he send it to you?" Wheeljack demanded.

"He knows me. I wouldn't have kept it to myself if I could; my mouth is too big," the Praxian stated, approaching the computer and entering the code. Ratchet stared in shock, his optic brows creased.

"He just made this encryption? There are so many codes it'd take me hours to do this."

"Then you'd best get started," Ultra Magnus hummed. "The rest of you, gather in the meeting room. We need to talk."

* * *

He paced the length of the lab, a scowl on his faceplate. He knew they would not stop searching until they found what they were looking for. He glanced over at the bound and silenced femme, a growl rumbling deep in his chassis. Moving closer, he traced a claw down the side of her face.

"You're more trouble then you seem, aren't you?" he murmured, narrowing his optics as she tried in vain to jerk away. A tremor ran through him, and with a sudden snarl he pulled away.

_No. No distractions. Stay focused. There is work to be done._

His buzzsaw flipped out, grinding its huge, deadly teeth together. With a low chuckle, he admired the weapon, a sadistic smirk crossing his face.

"Yes, I think I'll start with you, my dear." He paused, dentia glinting in the dim light. "But where, oh where, should I start?" The mech whipped around, the light reflecting off of his armor. The restrained femme snapped, a garbled stream of static-laced words.

"I'm sorry; what was that? I cannot seem to understand you." He grinned, and she could see the tell-tale glint of light on—was she mistaken?—fangs. Since when did this sniveling coward have _fangs?_ She jerked again as he approached her, his saw at the ready. Just when she thought he would strike, he froze, turning away.

"No, no, not _right._ Can't, _can't,** c-can't**_—"

He shook his helm. "Oh, but it _**is** _right. We have long been denied the pleasure of this, and such a rare opportunity. We were not allowed during our time on the ship." She watched in silence as his chassis was taken over by a violent tremor, and he faced her.

His optics were darker than normal, and the insanity and hunger hidden deep in them made the smallest hint of fear creep into her spark. He stalked towards her, silent, with his movement cloaked and dark. The slight grin that curled his mouthplates and exposed the long and glinting fangs made her fear grow ever stronger.

"Now, then." The saw started again, its whine filling the air.

"Let us begin."

* * *

**Like, hate, review! Sorry for Smokescreen and Wheeljack being out of character; Wheeljack was out of it for "special reasons". *cue evil grin*. Smokescreen just...happened. Playfulness put on hold in front of strict by-the-book leader.**

**Any questions? PM me or leave it in a review!**

**Bye!**


	3. Dark Hunger

**Chapter Three! I am _really _sorry for the long wait!**

* * *

She woke to complete darkness. It was cold and damp, the wetness seeping into her core. Her helm pounded, a booming thud that hurt each time it happened. She shivered, and the movement revealed that she was restrained. She focused on a way to get out of her containment when a movement in her peripheral vision caught her optic.

A figure sat in the shadows, a mech based on the frame type. If the rattling noise was anything to go by, the mech's armor was shifting and flaring from his trembling frame. But who was it? Why was she...?

The memories came crashing back, and Arcee struggled in her uncomfortable seat.

"Knock Out, if you don't let me go _right now_, I swear to Primus, you will regret it for the rest of your life!"

Normally the vain medic would have responded with one of his irritating jibes, but nothing but silence answered.

"Are you ignoring me? Knock Out, answer me!"

Silence screamed and worry and suspicion pierced her spark as she recalled the strange events that had occurred over the past joors.

"Knock Out?"

The red mech turned his helm towards her, his optics blazing bright. Without a noise he stood, the strange gracefulness and deadliness comparable to that of a terrestrial snake, and made his way over to her. His pedes scraped against the rough metal floor, harsh and grating noises abusing her audio receptors. As he neared, however, Arcee noticed that his paint was no longer red, but pitch black. Purple biolights peppered his servos like veins, and his long claws glinted silver in the dim lighting. His optics, bloody crimson one moment, had switched to a dark, menacing purple. Large and elegant wings were flared wide behind him, twitching irregularly as if they could not decide which direction they wanted to move in.

This was not Knock Out.

He did _not_ have wings, he was _not_ black, his optics were _not_ purple and he was surely not as _slagging creepy _as this...so who the pit was this?

The mech continued to make his way over to her, pedes screaming and dragging against the jagged ground. He was silent, not acknowledging her determined struggling. His faceplate remained devoid of emotion, as blank as a sheet of refined scrap metal. His piercing gaze unnerved her, as well as the faint rumble coming from his engines.

"Where is Knock Out?"

The mech froze, optics narrowing. A grin suddenly appeared and long and pointed dentia were revealed, flashing in the dim light. A rumbling snarl came from the mech as his optics burned viciously.

"Your pathetic excuse for a medic is not here at the moment." His voice was deep and rumbling, chilling her to the core. She flinched as a razor-thin claw carved its way down the side of her faceplate, leaving a burning scar in its wake.

A rumbling purr escaped the mech as he leaned closer. His exvents were ice-cold, making her shiver even more.

"Can I take a message?"

A sharp pain laced throughout her helm, and the last thing she saw were the Energon-stained dentia looming before her.

* * *

"We have a search-and-rescue situation." Ultra Magnus stood at the head of the room, his towering frame nearly reaching the ceiling. "One of our members has been kidnapped, but her kidnapper's intentions are unclear. Knock Out will clearly not give us any more information, therefore time is of the essence."

"Do you think he'd actually dissect Arcee?" Smokescreen questioned, his doorwings displaying his concern. "He wouldn't _really_ do that, would he?"

"We do not know what to expect," Ultra Magnus rumbled. "Bulkhead, report."

The massive Wrecker spoke up, shifting in his seat. The chair creaked and groaned, protesting at the movement. "I was following Arcee's signal right before it vanished. She was here"—he brought up a map of Cybertron, narrowing it down to an old battlefield, the same one Ratchet had described—"before her signal vanished."

"Was she acting strangely before communications cut off?"

"No, sir. I warned her about the tricks he had up his sleeve, but she dismissed them without a second thought, hung up, and then…this happened." He motioned around the room.

"What 'tricks' does this Knock Out currently possess?" Ultra Magnus demanded. He had had little experience with the former Decepticon medic, the most being when they had 'worked' together under Optimus' command before his sacrifice.

"Many." Bumblebee spoke up, his optics spinning. "He may seem to care about only his appearance, but if you mess it up, he can and most likely will attempt to decapitate you."

"He can be a _somewhat_ formidable fighter," Smokescreen added, his optics brightening as he came from whatever thoughts that were occupying his processor.

"Truth be told, it's his mouth that's his best weapon," Bumblebee continued. "He _loves_ to irritate his opponents."

"You're just saying that 'cause he mouthed off to you when you lost your T-Cog," Wheeljack muttered irritably, appearing from the shadows. His armor was flared and his mouth was set in a scowl so deep it gave the impression of being permanently carved into his faceplates.

"You have no reason to talk," the black and yellow warrior retorted. "You've been acting weird ever since Knock Out called. What's with you?"

The swordsmech narrowed his optics, his engine growling with a thinly veiled warning, as his wings flared. But before he could respond, Magnus cut them off.

"Enough with the childish bickering. This investigation will be performed strictly by-the-book, and nothing else. Settle your personal matters elsewhere," the massive blue mech rumbled, optics flashing in challenge as Wheeljack made to retort.

At that moment, the door to the meeting room opened. Ratchet entered, looking worse for the wear, with a datapad in each hand. His optics were dim with exhaustion, yet he held himself with his normal irritated and rigid posture.

"Doctor, what are you doing here?" Ultra Magnus demanded, crossing his servos.

Ratchet scowled at the superior's attempt at intimidation. "There is something you should see." With a light thud the medic slid the datapads across the table to the commander, leaning heavily against the large piece of furniture.

"What is this?" Magnus glanced up at the weary medic.

The red and white mech shuttered his optics, venting heavily. "Actually take the time to read it and you'll find out," he muttered in a bitter tone.

Ultra Magnus narrowed his optics at the faint sign of insubordination, yet knew he could not take it out on the elder mech or risk getting a certain tool to the helm. Quietly, he examined the information given, aware of the gazes of the others pinned on him.

_**Medical File**: Nemesis Staff: Officers._

_**Identification Serial**: 0015723-96872313._

_**Type:** Patient Examination._

_**Time: **Eighteen hundred vorns after start of the Great War.  
_

_**Patient Designation**: Knock Out. _

_**Gender: **Mech. _

_**Height: **7.62 terrestrial meters. _

_**Occupation: **Chief Medical Officer._

_**Affiliation:** Undetermined. Beneficial in negligible terms to warring factions. Decepticon as of present._

_**Cause of Appointment**: Complaints filed frequently throughout warship pertaining to bizarre personality behaviors. Suspected of possessing more than one disposition. _

_**Accused Retort**: Protestation to aforementioned matter. _

_**Medical Examination Results**: Indications of frequent helm aches and blackouts. Cannot recall certain events; indubitable unknown work at play. Further examination required and scheduled as of six quartexes from now. _

_**Subject Due to Change/Result Alteration**: Appointment moved to earlier location and time. Nonnegotiable._

**_Additional Observations:_**_ Subject noticed to have abnormal mood changes. Sadistic intentions arise. Dangerous to any being near him._

The leader of the Autobots looked up, meeting the cold cerulean glare of the medic. "Explain this."

With a hoarse and slightly exasperated vent, Ratchet straightened and headed over to stand near the blue mech, taking the datapad from his servos and projecting it onto the center screen for all to see.

"Read this. All of you."

After they did so, all was silent. Bumblebee was the one to speak up.

"Ratchet, what does this mean? By the sound of it, this only speaks about Knock Out having some sort of amnesia problem caused by blackouts."

"Something he failed to mention to us, despite his saying that there were no medical files on him." The medic's armor shifted as he leaned forward, bracing his arms against the table.

"And this report's significance to our investigation?" Magnus rumbled.

Ratchet met the Commander's gaze and held it steadily, enough to cause slight discomfort in Ultra Magnus, as his digits moved swiftly over the holographic keyboard display in front of him. Another file came up.

They did not have to be informed to analyze the proffered information.

_**Medical File**: Nemesis Staff: Officers_

_**Identification Serial**: 0015723-96872313_

_**Type: **Patient Examination_

**_Time: _**_Twenty three million vorns after end of the Great War._

_**Patient Designation: **Knock Out. _

_**Gender: **Mech. _

_**Height: **7.62 terrestrial meters. _

_**Occupation: **Chief Medical Officer._

_**Affiliation: **Decepticon.  
_

_**Cause of Appointment: **Reported incidents of uncontrollable rages resulting in forced unconsciousness. Death count: 50._

_**Accused Retort: **Cannot recall event clearly. _

_**Medical Examination Results: **Traces of fragmented memories. Revealed corruption shown and spreading; unable to determine cause: unknown._

_**Subject Due to Change/Result Alteration: **Additional medic summoned; emotional command cortex fragmented. Ailment in treatment as of now._

_**Additional Observations: **__Driven to a psychopathic rage when questioned regularly; restraints needed. Necessary precautions taken. To be dealt with immediately._

"Wait, he killed _fifty _Cybertronians, all at once?" Smokescreen asked, optic ridges furrowing in confusion. "There's more to Knock Out than meets the optic."

"Apparently." Ratchet looked to the mech at the head of the table. "Do you understand what this means?"

Ultra Magnus' engine rumbled. "However unlikely it may be, Knock Out is unaware of his actions." The cold glare sharpened dangerously. "Yet I still do not see how this relates to our current situation, despite our former Decepticon's obliviousness."

Ratchet seemed ready to strangle the mech, yet he forced himself not to by clenching his servos into fists. "These are Knock Out's unscrambled encryptions." The screen shifted and rearranged itself, displaying a long and jumbled list of mismatched words and phrases. They all analyzed the given information.

"Ratchet, I'm confused." Bulkhead spoke up. "Is Knock Out here" -he pointed to a strange glyph on the screen that loosely translated to _Pits of Kaon_ -"or here?" He motioned to another series of letters and numbers referring to _Iacon Central.__  
_

"I don't get this at all," Bumblebee sighed, narrowing his optics as if it were going to assist him in the complicated task. "How old is this type of encryption?"

"Very," Ratchet responded. "These are what Soundwave used as a gladiator when he transmitted different radio frequencies to scramble his opponent's processor enough for him to take them down or enough to fry them completely." He felt their curious stares and did not look away from the screen as he shook his helm and cleared his vents. "Don't ask."

"So the Mad Doctor's actually psycho?" Wheeljack demanded, his patience thinning. He couldn't just leave her out there with that annoying little glitch...

"As much as I do not like to admit it, yes." Ratchet looked to Ultra Magnus, who sat with his chin rested against his steepled digits.

_You cannot afford to lose a member so early after your unofficial ranking raise. It will not bode well._

_Losing one member is not as bad as losing an entire team. Or did you forget that?_

_How could I possibly forget? The female warrior is one of the best of this small team. Losing her would be detrimental to the stability._

_When have you cared about stability? You barely have any yourself._

_As do you._

_Ooh, getting fancy with the retorts, are we? Spending time with these insignificant younglings is rubbing off of you._

_I happen to be informing you as of now that these 'insignificant younglings', as you call them, are a highly capable team better than you would ever know._

_Smart-aft._

_Likewise._

"Uh...sir?"

He opened his optics to find every mech staring at him, Wheeljack being the only one in brewing and approaching violent anger. Ratchet kept his unblinking gaze on him, shrouded with the cloud of slight suspicion and concern.

"What would you like us to do?" Bumblebee questioned, doorwings flicking.

"Ratchet has the location narrowed down to an old medbay in the Pits of Kaon, if you didn't hear earlier," Smokescreen added, optics bright with warring emotions.

"He probably didn't," Wheeljack muttered, hissing as Bulkhead elbowed him roughly, enough to irritate his freshly welded armor.

"It has been confirmed that Knock Out is mentally ill and unaware of his current actions." Magnus rose to his pedes and headed out of the room, his team following, and entered the main Ground Bridge control room. Ratchet typed in the coordinates and the machine whirred to life, roaring with the mechanical hum of advanced technology.

Ultra Magnus faced his team. "We now know where Knock Out is keeping Arcee, albeit in a place we will have to narrow down." The portal hummed as if content with the location decision and whirred as the massive blue mech led his team through it.

It was cold and dark. An uncommon icy draft moaned, echoing off the large and dilapidated buildings. Light was provided only by their optics, weapons, and biolights.

Ultra Magnus activated a private and encrypted comm. line. _/Bumblebee, scout ahead and report back immediately should you find anything. Smokescreen, accompany him and keep your guard up./_

The scout gave a thumbs-up and darted forward, doorwings flared to take in as much data as possible. Smokescreen followed, blaster raised and aimed as he watched his teammate's back, ready to shoot to kill in order to keep his friend safe.

_/Bulkhead and Wheeljack: you will stay with me. Keep your optics peeled./ _Magnus powered up his handheld blaster and activated the silencer it was equipped with as he addressed all of them.

_/Do not underestimate our foe. Take every step wisely and do not fall for any type of stratagem. Autobots, transform and roll out!/_

Two deep mauve optics glared from the inky darkness of an alleyway. Long talons scraped against the rusted metal walls of the nearest building, leaving deep and jagged scars in their wake. A slight, disturbing grin revealed huge and toxic fanged dentia that gleamed in the diseased light.

He chuckled, tracing his glossa over his Energon-stained servos.

_"Let the game begin."_

* * *

**...this escalated quickly, didn't it? Sorry. Hope you like. There will be longer chapters, I promise!**

**R&R, pleaze! Suggestions, concerns, and questions welcomed!**

**Bye!**


End file.
